


make my apocalypse

by Jasandmonty



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Blood, Gen, Suffering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-29 20:08:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6391519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jasandmonty/pseuds/Jasandmonty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"By the end of the process they all had blood soaking their hands. The screaming would no doubt ring in their ears all night and on through the morning. But if she had to do something so horrible, Clary supposed this was an alright group to do it with." </p><p>or, the zombie au where the tmi gang takes shelter in a Wal-Mart</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Clary stuck her hand in the small opening of the vending machine, knowing that there wasn’t going to be a bottle of Diet Coke but still praying that there would be.

The light wasn’t on because there was no way that the vending machine could be running. Power stopped existing in the world when the back-up generators all slowly groaned to a stop only a month after the end of the world. Still. It was possible that someone may have been in the process of buying a Diet Coke when things just began to fall apart and it was possible that it could’ve been in there, abandoned, waiting for Clary to drink it.

“No luck.” She sighed, picking her pistol back up and moving over to where her companion was sitting. Simon was leaning against the no-longer-sliding glass doors of the Walmart that they were taking refuge by. Under the dried zombie blood that was splattered across his face, Simon looked pale and tired. They’d both been moving for almost two days straight with little rest and it was starting to show. Simon could barely walk for more than an hour without feeling exhaustion wearing on him.

Still, he kept his signature sunny attitude that she loved him for.

“You know if there’s an orange soda in there you have to tell me, right?” Simon asked, nudging her. “You can’t just lie about it because you don’t approve of my taste in sodas.”

“Orange is disgusting.” Clary reminded him.

Simon reached over and tugged on a loose curl of her frizzy hair. “Tell that to your genetics.”

The low growl of Clary’s stomach interrupted their playful banter and reminded Clary that she hadn’t eaten in two days. They’d both shoved as much food in their backpacks as they could when they’d left Brooklyn, but their Ziplocs of granola and Cheetos had been empty for too long.

“If only we could get in there,” Clary mused, knocking on the door of the Walmart, “so we could ransack the cereal aisle. Lucky Charms would be heavenly right now.”

Simon was silent for a moment. With what seemed like great effort, he stood. Clary looked up at him dazedly as his thin fingers searched the glass of the door. It was dark inside the store and nearly impossible to see inside, but Simon still squinted at the glass as if he were straining to see something past the door. Suddenly, he brought back his fist and banged it into the glass with a hollow thud.

“Maybe we can.” He murmured, looking down at her again. “If we broke the glass, I mean.”

“What?”

“Think of all the supplies inside, Clary. It had to have been locked since everything happened, right? Who would’ve just wandered by and locked it?” Simon pressed. “There’s shelves and shelves of food in there. Medicine, books, deodorant.”

He said the last one with raised eyebrows because, honestly, it was the most appealing of everything listed. Still, Clary didn’t understand how Simon’s vision could possibly work.

“There’s probably dozens of zombies in there.” She insisted. “Realistically—“

“Realistically,” Simon interrupted immediately, “this is our best option. If we clear out the zombies inside and barricade the doors, the rest is ours. It’s better than sitting around out here, right?”

She wished Simon hadn’t been on the damn debate team in school.

Twenty minutes later, they had the vending machine unplugged and in position to be used as a battering ram. It was difficult, because the thing was heavy and Simon and Clary didn’t have much muscle between the two of them even when they weren’t starving and exhausted. They finally got a good grip on the heavy machine and, after a few minutes of strategizing and complaining, smashed the metal top of the vending machine into the glass of the door.

A single crack snaked its way up the glass just as Simon and Clary’s arms gave out. The vending machine slipped from their grasp and crashed to the ground with an alarmingly loud noise. Clary apprehensively looked into the dark parking lot, where the silhouette of roaming figures had suddenly halted.

‘They heard.” Clary whispered, looking desperately back toward Simon. “Si, they’re coming.”

“Fuck.” Simon hissed, his fingers grazing over the deep crack in the door. It just needed one more push, but there was no way that they’d have enough time to laboriously lift their makeshift ram up again. The moans of the dead were growing increasingly loud as the dark figures that moved in the night drew closer. They came from all directions, a number too large for the amount of bullets that they had in the single gun they’d salvaged from the wreckage of apartments in the city.

“Simon.” Clary pressed, reaching for his arm. Their only option was to run at this point, though Clary doubted they’d make it far. “Simon, come on.”

His eyes didn’t leave the cracked entrance. They were hard and lit with determination, a sudden shadow passing over his face like a decision. “I’m not letting us die because of this.” He said firmly.

“We have nothing—“Clary began to insist, but the sound of shattering glass drowned out the rest.

Simon drew back his arm from the door, gasping in pained inhales of breath as blood dripped from his shoulder down to his palm. There were shards of glass embedded deep into his skin like a gruesome prop on the set of a horror movie. Clary cast a glance over her shoulder at the growing crowd of zombies, which were moving faster now that fresh blood was making contact with the air around them.

“Come on.” Simon had his hands locked together and his knees bent. Clary didn’t hesitate to step on the boost that he was providing her. With his weak support, Clary managed to sling her leg around the empty top frame of the door. She dropped down to the linoleum flooring and reached her arm out for Simon, who was already climbing in.

“We need to barricade it.” Clary instructed hurriedly. “Get the—the shopping carts or something.”

“It won’t work.” Simon argued, clutching a bloody hand to his arm and looking around desperately. “We need something more solid, something that won’t roll—“

A gunshot silenced their frantic argument. Clary stared as the first zombie at the door, which was halfway inside the space of the broken glass, flew backward with a spot of blood blossoming at its forehead.

She turned, an arm automatically reaching for Simon. A few feet away there stood two boys, one with a gun in his hand and dark hair that fell in his eyes and one with golden curls and probably dozens of concealed weapons. Clary and Simon both put their hands up in surrender as the golden boy nudged the other.

“Told you we should’ve barricaded that door first, Alec.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Keep your hands up.” The dark haired boy—Alec?—ordered. He approached them carefully, gun still held up and trained on the small space between Simon and Clary. If they made one wrong move, he could have bullets in their brains like he’d done with the zombie at the door. The knowledge that their captors had excellent aim did not help either of them calm down.

“I’ll check him.” The other boy offered as he approached Simon. Before Clary could protest, the stranger had roughly seized Simon by the wrist. He traced a finger around the many cuts and slices that tattered Simon’s skin. Simon flinched back at the contact, wincing in pain.

“Well,” Alec muttered when he looked closer at Simon’s arm, “that sure explains how they got through the door.”

“Let go of him.” Clary snapped, concern for Simon outweighing her fear of the gun pointed in her face. “You’re making it worse.”  
“I don’t think there’s much I can do to make this worse.” He murmured, still holding Simon’s arm and inspecting it closely. The stranger didn’t look concerned, only merely interested by the shards of glass that glittered with blood and the dim glow of the flashlight in his hand. Simon didn’t move, apparently differing from Clary by being more afraid of the gun than anything. “I guess I’ll just ask, then. No need to be more of a dick than necessary.”

“You’re already pushing it.” Clary grumbled.

“Have you been bitten?” Alec finally asked, monotone and apparently over this conversation and banter.

“No,” she said, “and we don’t plan on it. That’s why we came here. We don’t have much, I know that. But I can help you clear the zombies outside and barricade the doors. There’s strength in numbers, right?”

“Sure, you can help us with the work.” The golden boy said. “But what about your partner here? With all this glass in his skin, I doubt he’d be much help.”

Simon looked at Clary with wide, terrified eyes. His blood was still dripping down his pale skin, dotting the grey floors. He thinks I’d leave him, Clary realized with a jolt, and suddenly her mission was no longer to just survive but also to never do again whatever it was she’d done that had made Simon think she’d abandon him.

“If I go, he goes.” She declared steadily.

“Well, alright.” Alec agreed. “That’s fine. We don’t really need either of you. You broke into our shelter—“

“Alec.” The other boy interrupted. “Come on. We need more people and if we send them out there with his arm, they won’t last until the morning.”

The boys maintained eye contact for quite a while. They seemed to be communicating in a way that Clary and Simon were able to do; sending their thoughts through twists of their lips and flashes of their eyes. Clary waited in agony, wanting nothing more than to be free from the spot where she stood so she could hurry to Simon’s side. His left hand was still held to his bleeding right arm, his fingers now soaked with red.

“I’m Jace.” The golden boy finally said, walking away from his companion to Clary, arm outstretched. She cautiously shook his hand.

“Clary.” She replied, nodding toward Simon. “That’s Simon.”  
“Right.” Jace looked over at Simon. “I don’t think I should shake his hand, though.”

Clary hurried over to Simon, gently moving his shaking hand from his injured arm.

“It looks worse than it feels.” He attempted to reassure her, but the way he trembled under her touch proved otherwise. Simon was always trying to keep Clary happy. She vividly remembered the day of Simon’s father’s funeral, when he was only thirteen years old. He’d been smaller then, awkward and gangly in the suit that he’d grow out of in two weeks. Clary had cried that day, just like everyone else, but only because she was scared that her cheerful best friend would be broken beyond repair.

Simon had dried her tears while his own soaked his cheeks. He was still like that, constantly reassuring her with jokes and goofy smiles.

“Maybe Izzy will know what to do.” Alec suggested, locking eyes with Simon. “She’s our little sister. She’ll help you. But don’t you dare touch her, either of you.”

Simon nodded quickly, taking Clary’s hand with his good one. They followed Alec and Jace, who walked a few paces in front of them and muttered to each other lowly. Simon tightened his grip on Clary. “You’re sure we can trust them?”

“We don’t have any other options.” She reasoned.

“If things go wrong,” Simon whispered, lifting his shirt to show where their gun was tucked into the waistband of his jeans, “take it and shoot.”

She nodded. The boys had abruptly come to a stop by the frozen food section, where cold air no longer pumped into the displays. A girl not much older than Clary was on her knees in front of one display, working diligently to sort their food inventory. She seemed entirely unbothered by whatever it was that her brothers could possibly be dealing with at the front of the store.

“Isabelle.” Alec’s voice made her turn around quickly, revealing a face that was all angles and shadows. Her dark hair was pulled up into a tight knot, making her sharp cheekbones appear especially striking. She looked dangerous. “We have guests.”

Her eyes scanned over Simon and Clary for a brief moment. She did not look alarmed by them. Clary couldn’t blame her.

“How’d they get in?” Isabelle asked. “Through the doors that Jace said we should have barricaded first?”

Jace beamed. “I’m glad one of the Lightwoods has brains—“

“Izzy, Mom taught you how to disinfect wounds, right?” Alec cut them off. “We need you to help Simon.”

Isabelle arched her eyebrows at Simon’s arm, a look of confusion on her face. She looked less annoyed than before, actually, almost a bit concerned for the complete stranger. “Why—why would I be able to fix this?”

“We have alcohol, tweezers, and bandages.” Jace pointed out. “You learned some of what Mom knew. Seems better than just leaving the glass in his arm and letting his skin grow around it.”

Simon shuddered.

“Fine.” Isabelle moved forward hesitantly, gently probing at Simon’s arm. She looked up at him with genuine dark eyes. “I’m going to try to help you. I’ll do my best, okay? I’m not my mother.”

“I don’t know your mother.” Simon offered weakly. “And, uh, I’m kinda glad that I don’t.”

The siblings all stared.

“You’re a terrifying family, from what I’ve gathered.” Simon clarified.

Ten minutes later, they were situated on the floor around a mattress pad, where Simon lay. Their new spot was by the front entrance, which was closed off with a temporary barricade (a short and thin bookshelf that Jace had carried over) that would keep out zombies but not people. Their supplies were gathered: a bundle of off-brand paper towels, tweezers, gauze bandages, and a bottle of cheap alcohol. Isabelle was about to tip the bottle over Simon’s arm when Jace stopped her suddenly, taking the bottle from his sister.

“It’s going to hurt,” he said to Simon as he pushed the bottle against his lips, “you might want a sip of this.”

Isabelle was true to her word. She was clearly trying her best, bent over Simon’s arm in deep concentration while she nudged and maneuvered shards of glass and applied as much disinfectant as she could. Simon’s increasingly pained whimpers didn’t help the untrained sixteen year old with her work.

“Clary,” he said through a gasp of pain while Isabelle struggled with one of the largest pieces near his wrist.

“I know, Si.” She murmured, desperately stroking his damp brown hair away in an attempt to soothe him.

“You know how your mom only shopped at Whole Foods? Because she said nothing good ever came from places like Walmart?” Simon grinned weakly. “She was right.”

It wasn’t until an hour and a half later that Clary allowed herself to even make eye contact with the others. Simon was asleep, cheeks flushed with a slight fever from the pain and alcohol. His arm was swathed in clean white fabric, the glass piled in a stack that was glued together with blood. Isabelle was looking at Simon with an unreadable expression on her face while her brothers gave Clary her privacy by playing their own little game that involved ridiculous ways to utilize the Walmart.

Alec was right in the middle of suggesting that they use the check-out counters’ conveyor belts as treadmills when Clary decided to speak.

“Thank you.” She tore her eyes away from Simon to meet their eyes. “For letting us stay. And for trying to help him.”

Jace shrugged. “To be fair, we only really got here like a day before you. It could’ve been us intruding on your new home.”

“We’re calling it home now?” Isabelle asked.

Alec smirked. “Seems fitting. And I guess we’re all family now, too, considering the fact that we just performed surgery on Simon and shared a bag of pretzels. Closer than ever, aren’t we?”

“Actually,” Izzy corrected with a smile, “I performed the—“

The rest of her words were drowned out with a sudden crash by the main doors. Their flimsy bookshelf-barricade had tipped over and the noise of muffled yelling could be heard from outside. Jace and Isabelle were both up in seconds, their weapons gripped tight in their hands. Clary reached for the gun that was still tucked beneath Simon’s shirt, waking her friend up abruptly.

“Woah!” A stranger’s voice protested. Clary dropped her gun, staring with the others at the intruders. One was older than all of them, a 20-ish year old Asian man with his arm protectively in front of a much younger boy with a mass of curls and bloody arrows clutched in his hand. “Relax, please? Jesus Christ, you don’t own the Walmart.”

“We have the weapons.” Jace answered immediately, gun still loaded and pointed. “We have the power.”  
“I am not sure about that, idiota.” The younger boy answered coolly, a slight accent tipping his words. “Do you hear that noise?”

They listened. Nothing.

“No?” Simon offered from where he still sat on his mattress pad. The boy smirked at him.

“Exactly,” He smiled, baring his teeth at them in a way that made it look like he had fangs pointing beneath his upper lip. He waved the bloody arrows tauntingly. “Because Magnus and I just killed all the zombies at your door for you.”

Magnus grinned through the silence of their speechlessness and the absence of moaning zombies.

“You’re welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, come talk on tumblr @kindasimonish


	3. Chapter 3

“We really appreciate the gesture.” Jace said, his voice casual and calm despite the fact that nearly everyone in the room was pointing a weapon at someone else. “But we have a full house here. There’s a Burlington Coat Factory just down the street, if you want to try another superstore.”

Magnus and the boy exchanged looks of annoyance and skepticism. They had the same telekinetic sort of ability as Alec and Jace or Clary and Simon, apparently. Magnus whispered something to the kid at his side and the boy nodded dutifully, taking off at a sprint toward the back of the store.

Alec immediately stepped forward to follow him, but Magnus halted him with an abrupt cock of his gun.

“Sorry.” He smiled at Alec over the barrel of the gun. “I don’t want to hurt you. You’re way too cute. So just stay where you are, and we won’t need any violence. Okay?”

Alec glared at the stranger, fingers still tight around his own gun. “At least tell us where he’s going.”

“Raphael and I saw a rather large herd of zombies surrounding your fortress here on all sides. You cleverly barricaded your doors so they couldn’t get through. But, if Raphael hears a gunshot he’ll tear down those barricades in seconds and let your little utopia fill with the dead.”

“And what if the gunshot is from your gun?” Isabelle spoke up. “Because one of these attractive strangers mouthed off to you and you couldn’t handle your temper?”

Magnus smirked. His eyes were a strangely enchanting mix of golden and green hues, Clary noticed, like the trees midway between fall and summer. But they gleamed with something unidentifiable and slightly terrifying.

“You’re just going to have to trust that I don’t want to hurt any of you.”

“Alright,” Alec said after a moment. He dropped his gun at his feet and raised his hands in surrender, nodding at the rest of them to do the same. Isabelle dropped her pistol reluctantly, Jace following suit after a moment of scowling at Magnus. Clary quickly slid the gun beneath the blanket that Isabelle had draped over Simon, making sure her partner saw the deliberate movement. Simon noticed, his eyes flashing with approval.

“Our guns are down.” Alec acknowledged. “Your turn. Drop it.”

“I will. But first,” Magnus smiled as both Isabelle and Jace groaned with frustration, “I need you to promise me that you’ll let me and my little brother stay here. We don’t even need to be here long, just until the herd passes through downtown. Deal?”

There was silence. Clary stared from where she knelt beside Simon at Alec, their unspoken leader. From the back she could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers unconsciously pulled at the hem of his shirt. He spoke finally, in a measured voice.

“One night.” Alec declared. “We’ll try it for one night. And then we’ll see how it works from there.”

Magnus smiled brightly, dropping his gun to the floor with a metal clang. “Great! Did you hear that, Raphael?”

He turned his head to look to the left of them, and Clary’s eyes followed. The boy was kneeling atop a ten foot shelf to their left, a crossbow aimed on them. He was all dark colors and shadows, with a ray of moonlight from the windows that lined the ceiling grazing his cheekbone. He didn’t flinch with all the eyes on him, only moved his weapon down just enough so they could see his face.

“Great.” He said. “Wouldn’t want to make that lie about me ruining your barricades become the truth, right?”

From beside her, Simon smiled.  
///  
“Online shopping.” Isabelle mused wistfully. “That’s what I miss the most.”

Alec laughed. “I do not miss your online shopping, Isabelle. You always use to charge your purchases to my credit cards!”

“Yeah well,” Isabelle took a bite of the turkey sandwich she was eating and nudged her brother, “Jace always took money from your wallet when he went on dates with Kaelie.”

“What?”

“She had expensive tastes!” Jace insisted defensively.

They were sitting again in their little circle, feasting on deli meats and other perishable foods. There was nothing Clary wanted more than a bag of barbecue chips, but she figured that eating the foods that would stay good the longest before eating ones that would soon be expired wasn’t the smartest option.

She glanced over at Raphael and Magnus, who were ecstatic to be eating a bag of frosted animal cookies. Or at least Magnus was ecstatic. Raphael just looked slightly more relaxed now that he had food in his systems.

The outsiders sat in the circle with the rest of them, but they didn’t talk much to anyone besides each other. They had yet to partake in the game that involved whining about what they missed from the world of the living.

“What about you, Clary?” Isabelle nudged her. “What do you miss the most?”

My mom. Luke. Home.

“My bed.” She said through a wry grin. “I had the best down pillows. This knit blanket that was only out in the winter. Simon always hogged it when he slept over, though.”

The others chuckled as Clary looked over at Simon. He was sitting beside her with his head leaning against a cupcake display, his eyelids half closed. She nudged him. He startled awake, eyes wide and almost unfocused.

“Sorry, what? Did you say something?”

“Are you okay?” Alec asked Simon suddenly, interrupting his siblings’ playful teasing. He was staring at Simon with his thin eyebrows knit together, his blue eyes narrowed. “You look really pale, Simon.”

“He does.” Jace murmured in agreement. “And he’s sweating.”

“I’m fine.” Simon insisted, his voice slurring drowsily. “Just…I’m just tired.”

“Simon, keep your eyes open.” Alec ordered, moving forward on his knees. He swiftly raised his hand and pressed the back of it to Simon’s forehead, his lips parting after seconds of silence passed. He sat back on his heels and addressed the group rather than Simon himself. “He’s burning up.”

“Simon?” Clary spoke more gently than the rest of them as she carefully took her best friend’s hand. “Si, you have to tell us what’s wrong.”

“It’s my arm.” He admitted finally. His brown eyes were wide and apologetic, as if he felt guilty for feeling pain because it inconvenienced them. “It hurts.”

Jace carefully took Simon’s right arm and unpinned the bandage wrap. Simon gripped Clary’s hand tighter as Jace unrolled the gauze from the injury.

“Oh fuck.” Jace hissed, letting the last bit of bloodied bandage fall away. Clary immediately felt sick at the sight of her best friend’s arm, willing her stomach to settle so they didn’t waste the deli food.

His wound ripped across his skin like a tear through paper. Blood had gathered around the edges of the cut and began to turn colors other than red. The worst was the way it swelled and made streaks of red veins vibrant under Simon’s skin. It looked like the horrific pictures that had made Clary step out of the room in health class.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Simon offered weakly after a full minute of silence and open gaping from everyone in the circle.

“Yes it is.” A new voice spoke up. Raphael was looking down at Simon’s arm not with the horror that the rest of them did, but merely with solemn sympathy. “And it will only become worse if you don’t do something about it.”

“I don’t know what to do about it.” Isabelle whispered, her voice climbing to a slightly hysterical tone. “I—I swear I didn’t think this was going to happen. I thought I’d cleaned it fine—“

“It’s not your fault.” Magnus interrupted softly. “Infection can often be from deep inside the cut. Not something you can fix with soap and water.”

“How do you know?” Jace scoffed.

Magnus looked up at him, eyes flashing at the challenge. “Because before the world started dying, I was a training EMT.”

As Jace rolled his eyes and muttered a weak retaliation, hope bloomed in Clary’s chest. “So you can fix him, right?”

“I can certainly try.” Magnus nodded. Clary waited for him to start ordering the others for certain supplies, for him to get closer to Simon, for him to do something. Instead he just sat still, cross-legged and staring at them with his odd eyes. “But in exchange, you have to let us stay. More than just one night.”

“What?” Clary hissed. “You’re making this into a bargaining mechanism for yourself?”

“You want to protect Simon, right?” Magnus bit back quickly. “Well I want to protect Raphael. That’s the deal.”

“Fine, deal.” Clary agreed immediately. Alec looked at her and opened his mouth to argue, but a small whimper from Simon silenced him before he could protest.

Magnus smiled again. “Great. Raphael, go find me a knife and a lighter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr is @kindasimonish


	4. Chapter 4

“Look, I know you don’t want to hear this but I need to say it.” Simon rasped. He was laying with his head on Clary’s lap and his injured arm flat against the waxy floor. The group had gone off to collect everything they’d possibly need while Magnus prepared himself for the procedure by eating a doughnut. 

“Go ahead.” Clary nodded, still using her thumb to stroke Simon’s hair from his eyes. 

“We know that everyone who dies turns, no matter what. If I don’t get through this--” 

“Simon.” Clary’s voice shook. “Don’t say that. Magnus knows what he’s doing. He’s an almost-doctor.” 

“I know.” Simon smiled. His lips were nearly white, the rest of his face drained entirely of color everywhere besides his fever-flushed cheeks. His entire body shook but his face remained placid, calm, collected. He was trying his best not to come apart entirely. “But you never know, right? Sometimes people died in surgeries that weren’t performed in the deli section of a Wal-Mart by an unlicensed doctor.” 

She wished he were capable of not joking for like, two minutes. But he seemed to be convinced that he was about to die, so Clary let it slide. 

“I’m just saying,” Simon went on steadily, “that if I die, please don’t let me turn into a zombie. Even for a second. Shoot me or stab me, okay?” 

“Okay.” Clary muttered grudgingly. “But that won’t happen.” 

Magnus seemed to be waiting for them to finish their conversation. He approached when they were done with the sentiment, wiping his frosting-covered fingers off on a napkin before grabbing his knife. 

The others wandered back after a few minutes of solemn waiting. Alec carried a flashlight, which he switched on and handed to Isabelle. She smiled at him weakly, glad to be offered a part in the procedure after feeling so helpless after the first one. With a beam of light fixed on his wound and a heated blade hovering just above his skin, Simon nodded to affirm that he was readier than he’d ever be. 

The moment the knife touched down into his wound, Simon spoke in a voice which suggested that “readier than he’d ever be” still wasn’t very ready. 

“Can someone say something?” He said in a voice that might’ve been light joking in his head but sounded like pained begging to the rest of them. “Just...tell a story or a joke or something?” 

Jace took this opportunity to tell the story about the time he and Alec had broken into their parents’ liquor cabinet when they were kids. With occasional interjections from Alec and a few chuckles from the rest of them, Simon seemed distracted just enough to keep from screaming as the knife dug out micro-sized shards of unremoved glass. 

That was until Magnus interrupted in a voice that was anything but relaxed. 

“We have a slight problem.” Magnus announced solemnly. “Which is that the infection has spread up his entire arm.” 

 

“And?” Alec demanded, his face dark. “You said you could fix him.”

“That was when I thought the wound just needed to be cleared and cleaned. If there’s blood poisoning, it’ll just spread past his arm and everywhere else. I can’t prevent that without some serious antibiotics. Which I do not have.” 

There was silence. And then, there was chaos. 

Jace was insisting that a few of them just go check the nearby stores to see if there were antibiotics anywhere else, while Magnus argued that only a hospital would have what they needed. Alec calmly suggested checking for a substitute antibiotic while Isabelle not so calmly suggested that Magnus either fix Simon or go perform a questionable activity with a zombie. 

Clary felt a tug on her sleeve as she began to warm up to Jace’s idea. She looked down and saw that, oddly enough, Simon was calmer than all of them. 

“Clary, I need you to do it.” He spoke with slow surety. “What we talked about. I don’t want to turn, remember?” 

“Simon.” Clary didn’t even bother trying to keep her voice calm. Maybe if she was the one dying on his lap, she’d be calm like he was. But Clary wasn’t the one dying. It was her best friend. Out of every single person sitting in the circle, it had to be Simon. 

Simon who had walked with her to school every morning, even when it was freezing out and his mother offered to drive him. Simon who wrote songs for her and played them until his fingers bled on his guitar strings to get them just right. Simon who had held her in her living room for three hours while a fire quietly burned in the corner and a zombie who looked an awful lot like who her mother use to be slowly dissolved to ash. 

Simon who had torn open his arm to get her inside the shelter. 

“I’m not going to.” She insisted through tears. She couldn’t see anyone else; they were blurred colors compared to the clarity that she saw Simon through. “I won’t kill you.” 

“But he wants you to.” A voice said quietly, and Clary was filled with white fury when she saw that Alec, someone she’d met less than a day ago, was trying to convince her to murder her best friend. 

“But he isn’t dead!” Clary hissed. “And he won’t die. We--we can do what Jace said. We can go look for something to help him--” 

“Clary.” Isabelle shook her head. “He won’t make it. If he doesn’t want to turn, you should make sure he--”

“I won’t.” Clary insisted fiercely. Jace, thankfully, seemed to agree and he nodded beside her with an incredulous look directed at his siblings. 

“We can’t kill someone every time there’s an injury.” Jace preached. “You’re giving up too fast.” 

“It’s what he asked for.” Magnus inserted. 

“Well I’m not doing it.” Clary said finally, crossing her arms. She refused to kill her best friend unless she heard him growling or saw him trying to attack someone. He wasn’t yet. He was still Simon, still capable of telling a joke or reciting the Star Wars opening crawls by heart. 

“I’ll do it, then.” Alec declared. He had a lethally large knife in his hand, something that belonged in a butcher’s shop. Something that didn’t belong in Simon’s brain.   
“Alec!” Jace yelled, horrified. 

“You can’t.” Clary begged. “Don’t--” 

A knife came down, cracked through bone, and Simon screamed. 

Clary’s ears were ringing. 

She couldn’t see what was happening. She could only see soft white light and the way Simon’s chest rose and fell under the quilts on her bed on an early Saturday morning. She could see the comic books spread out on the bed around them, open to the pages they’d been reading the night before until the fell asleep. She could see his clean skin, the tiny scar on his lip and the freckles on his jaw. She could see childhood and calm and innocence until she opened her eyes again. 

Now, she could see blood. She could see panic and hands frantically reaching over each other, grabbing wads of towels and red slowly creeping up, staining everything. She looked down and she could see, oddly enough, Simon blinking up at her. He didn’t look like a zombie.

She followed his shell-shocked gaze and saw Raphael, still quiet and still and holding the bloody knife that had separated Simon’s infected arm from the rest of him. 

“You’re welcome.” Raphael said lowly, grabbing a white towel and staining it with red when he pressed it to what remained of Simon’s arm, which was just a couple inches below the shoulder. Simon seemed to finally register what had happened and all at once began screaming and writhing and biting down on the balled up cloth that Jace offered him. 

Clary frantically tended to him while Magnus and Isabelle worked together to construct a tourniquet. Eventually, when it was reasonably safe for him to do so, Simon blacked out. By the end of the process they all had blood soaking their hands. The screaming would no doubt ring in their ears all night and on through the morning. But if she had to do something so horrible, Clary supposed this was an alright group to do it with.

The others got up and began to disperse, going to cope with what they’d just seen. Clary stayed. She caught at Raphael’s sleeve when he tried to get up, pulling him back down which only emitted an annoyed hiss from the kid. 

“Why’d you do that?” Clary asked.

Raphael’s thin eyebrows arched. Seeing him now, in calmness and better lighting, Clary could see just how young he was. He still hadn’t lost the boyish light behind his eyes, the kind of mischief that only belonged to a fifteen year old boy. He didn’t seem like the kind to be able to cut off an arm without batting an eye. 

“Do what? Save his life? Because that’s what I did--” Raphael began defensively. 

“No, I know.” Clary assured him. “I’m grateful, trust me. You saved him and I owe you everything. But why’d you do it? You barely know him.” 

Raphael shrugged. In the moonlight that came from the overhead windows, he looked mysterious and cunning and dangerous. He wasn’t, though. He was a hero. 

“I don’t know if I’d done it for any of the rest of you, honestly.” Raphael said carelessly, tilting his head back and allowing black curls to avalanche down his cheeks. 

“So why Simon?” Clary asked curiously. 

“Because when Magnus and I came in, not doing harm to any of you and only looking for someplace to sleep,” He glared at the others from where they sat a distance away, then back to Simon with a soft smile on his lips, “Simon was the only one who didn’t point a weapon at us.” 

Clary smiled. “He wouldn’t do that.” 

Raphael looked down at the hastily fashioned tourniquet, the bloodied knife that he’d used, and the heap of stained towels on the floor. He put a hand to Simon’s face and gently swiped a stray drop of blood away with his thumb. 

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that was exhausting to write. tumblr is @kindasimonish !


	5. Chapter 5

“And so they’re going to every pub in the...in the town and then at...one of them there’s these zombies--”

“Robots.” Magnus corrected gently. “Zombies was the other movie.”

“Oh yeah.” Simon blinked, his eyelids fluttering under the weight of exhaustion. Noticing this, Raphael shook his shoulder lightly. 

“So the robots come. And then what?” He prompted. 

It turned out that the only way for Simon to keep himself awake and distracted from the phantom pains in his arm was to describe his favorite movies in great detail. That worked out well, actually, because Raphael had been sadly deprived of seeing many iconic feature films in his young life. 

And it also worked out because Clary was pretty sure that Raphael thought Simon was cute. And maybe Simon would admit to the same thing when he could speak in complete sentences without having to take deep breaths or when he didn’t have to have at least two people with him at all times. 

“So then Gary King has to fight the robots and he...he gets to move on from...ow, Magnus.”

“Sorry.” Magnus pulled his hand back quickly, looking down at the open book on his lap. “This would be so much easier if Walmart carried more thorough medical procedural guides. Whoever wrote these zombie survival guides wasn’t taking the job very seriously.” 

“I use to read those when I was younger.” Simon murmured thoughtfully. “I don’t...remember much from them.” 

“I thought you only read Dragon Ball Z fanfiction?” Raphael asked. If Clary didn’t know better, she’d think that he was making a joke. She’d think that the little twist of his lips was a suppressed smile. She’d think that he was actually being playful with someone, right there where anyone could see.

Magnus looked surprised too, but he didn’t comment. He merely doused Simon’s injury in some of their precious water and dried carefully before wrapping the bandages back up. 

“You can sleep now if you’d like.” He told Simon, who gratefully closed his eyes and nuzzled his head back into the material of the jacket that he was using as a pillow. 

Clary hated seeing him in pain. She hadn’t liked it when she was seven and he had a broken arm from diving into the shallow part of the creek and she didn’t like it now that that arm was gone entirely. But it was better than yesterday. 

Anything was better than yesterday.

“Just a heads up,” Magnus nudged Clary with a wary glance cast across the store. She followed his gaze and felt her chest tighten when she saw Isabelle and Alec, sitting together with their heads bent and their faces serious. 

Clary hadn’t spoken to either of them all day. Logically there was no reason for animosity. They were just doing what they’d thought was right. But at the same time, Alec had had a knife in his hand, raised in the air. Ready to act. 

If Raphael hadn’t done something, Alec could’ve killed Simon. 

“I’m going to talk to them.” Clary decided, pushing herself to stand and securing the knife in her belt. “Stay with Simon. Call me if you need me.”

“Hey, find out what kind of flowers Alec likes.” Magnus said.

Clary and Raphael gave him identical withering glares. 

“What?” He shrugged. “The bouquets aren’t entirely dead yet. He may have murderous tendencies, but if not then he’s single and cute.” 

Clary tried to forget that the entire conversation had happened as she crossed the store. There were still a few zombies at the front door, but not nearly as large a herd as before. They must have gotten distracted and moved on. Really, this would be the perfect base if Simon hadn’t put his arm through the door to access it.

Alec looked up when he heard her approaching, his eyes curious and guarded. He instinctively put a hand over Isabelle’s and inched closer to his little sister. 

“You don’t need to do that.” Clary said wearily. “I’m just going to talk. Look I know you were scared that Simon would turn, I get that, but now that he’s getting better we can just pretend it didn’t happen, right?” 

“Right.” Alec agreed. His grip had loosened on Isabelle and he was looking sincerely at Clary, direct eye contact and everything. Maybe it could be that easy.

“Okay.” Clary said slowly. “Great. Then I guess we can go back to gathering food now?” 

“This isn’t over.” Isabelle said quickly. “The problem isn’t Simon.” 

“It’s Raphael.” Alec clarified. 

“What?” Clary searched their faces, looking for any indication that they were joking or bluffing or possibly forgetting which one was Simon and which was Raphael. “Raphael? What could you possibly have against him? He saved Simon!” 

“Yeah, by cutting off his arm.” Isabelle hissed. “Don’t you think there’s something wrong with that? He’s a fifteen year old boy and he just chopped through Simon’s bone like it was nothing! That doesn’t bother you?” 

“No!” Clary insisted, trying not to sound hysterical. “It was a good thing that he did it because none of us had the guts to! And it saved Simon’s life!” 

“Yeah, this time.” Alec retorted. “But he didn’t even take the time to ask the medical professional if it was the right thing to do. He just did it. We got lucky that it worked, but what happens the next time someone gets a cut or a fever and Raphael takes matters into his own hands and gets someone killed?” 

Clary took a deep breath. She knew that their points somewhat made sense, but she also thought that if anyone was allowed to be afraid of Raphael, it was her. Or Simon. The people who had been most affected by the decision. But Clary liked Raphael! And Simon only managed to stay conscious when he had Raphael to talk to!

The Lightwoods were being selfish, really. Using Simon’s ordeal to justify kicking someone out of their secret fortress. 

“Look, if we’re going to talk about this we should give Raphael a chance to defend himself.” She said calmly. “We can discuss it over dinner.”

“Clary.” The way Alec said her name made her want to grab the knife under her shirt hem. “The deal was that they could stay if they managed to fix Simon.” 

“Which they did.” 

“You don’t know that! He could still get infection or blood poisoning or something.” Isabelle reasoned. “And I don’t feel comfortable sleeping with a kid who willingly cuts off arms and doesn’t even feel remorse for it. We were here first. They have to go.” 

Clary cried when she was frustrated. It was always like that. Even if she wasn’t sad or even really angry, merely annoyed, tears always came hot and fast and unstoppable. But she was not about to cry in front of the Lightwoods. She steeled her jaw and looked them both dead in the eyes for a full minute before giving them a curt, “We’ll discuss this at dinner.” 

She walked back to the other side, where Simon was awake again and Raphael was leaning over him. 

“He’s up already?” Clary muttered as she settled down beside Magnus. 

“His fever spiked.” Magnus replied. “It’s fine, I gave him some antibiotics and I don’t see any sign of infection yet, just shock. He’s a little delirious though.” 

She scooted closer to Simon, threading her fingers through his messy hair and putting a cool hand on the back of his warm neck. “Hey, Si.” She whispered. “How’re you feeling?” 

“Mm, it’s okay.” Simon mumbled in his raspy voice. He reached a shaky hand up and cupped Raphael’s cheek, which slowly turned rosy under his fingers. Clary wondered if anyone had ever succeeded in making Raphael blush in his life. “I have my guardian angel.” 

“You are talking loco.” Raphael said softly, his voice not nearly as nonchalant as usual. 

“You saved my life.” Simon insisted drowsily. He was looking up at Raphael with eyes that shone from fever and there was so much admiration in them that Clary reached the decision then and there that Raphael would not leave. Simon was dedicated enough to lose an arm to get into the shelter. He deserved to stay, as did anyone that he looked at like that. “You’re an angel.” 

Raphael glanced at Clary, blushing even redder when he realized how much she was about to hear. She scooted back, giving them privacy. 

“What’s wrong?” Magnus asked her. “You look...frazzled.”

“The Lightwoods don’t trust Raphael. They want to throw him out, and you too. I don’t know what Jace thinks but I doubt he can convince them otherwise.” 

“Oh dear.” Magnus said softly, looking across the room at where the dark silhouettes of the Lightwoods were settling down to sleep. “I suppose the flowers have already died.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you were wondering, the movie Simon refers to is "The World's End" which i thought was fitting. 
> 
> come talk on tumblr @kindasimonish


	6. Chapter 6

Dinner turned out to be bologna sandwiches and milk, which Clary could only convince herself to consume by reminding herself that it was the apocalypse. 

They were seated once again in their circle, this time with the Lightwoods sitting a bit outside the formation. Jace was seated beside Clary, though, his knee touching hers. He smiled at her every few minutes, clearly trying to be reassuring. It worked, to some degree. 

Simon was doing a lot better, thanks to the painkillers and fever reducers that Magnus had given him. He was sitting up on his mattress and nibbling on a sandwich, his hand unconsciously resting on the ending of his right arm. Raphael was talking to him, telling him a story about a number of illegal things that Magnus had done in his youth. 

Clary briefly thought that things would be so much better if the Lightwoods were gone. Everything would be trusting and safe and easy.

“You said we’d talk at dinner.” Alec spoke up. “It’s dinner. Talk.” 

All side conversations ceased. Clary figured there was no point in delaying the inevitable. She turned to Raphael. 

“Alec and Isabelle are worried.” She announced. “They think that you may act rationally because of what you did for Simon. They want you to prove that you aren’t a threat.” 

Raphael simply looked at the Lightwoods with an unimpressed expression. “You’re threatened by a fifteen year old?” 

Magnus stifled a laugh and Simon was staring with wide-eyed admiration. Clary marveled at the bravery of someone so young. She’d been near tears when she’d received this speech just an hour ago, and she wasn’t even the one at risk. Raphael didn’t seem to feel fear, only strength and courage. 

“A fifteen year old with a gun and a knife.” Isabelle shot back. 

“Fair enough.” Raphael conceded, throwing a smirk in Magnus’ direction. “I do happen to be a great shot.” 

“Wait.” Simon cleared his throat and raised his underused voice. “Raphael did what he did to save my life. Are you saying he should have let me die?” 

“We’re saying you weren’t going to die.” Alec argued. “Not at that very second. He didn’t need to start hacking off your arm.” 

“You were going to kill him!” Clary snapped. “Literally. You were about to murder Simon. And what, now you’re upset that Raphael saved him before--”

“I was protecting the group.” Alec interrupted, but Clary threw a hand in his face and powered through. 

“Don’t speak while I’m speaking. You’re accusing Raphael of acting irrationally but you were seconds away from putting that knife into Simon’s brain. At least Raphael thought he was giving Simon a chance! It seems to me like if we should be scared of anyone--” 

“It’s you.” Simon finished, inching closer to Raphael and Magnus. 

Silence settled over the group, thick and suffocating like a blanket of snow after an avalanche. Jace finally cleared his throat and stood, his hands raised in a sign of surrender. 

“We all need to cool down.” He declared steadily. “I’m going to get more food. We should all take a few minutes and then we can come back and work it out like adults, okay?” 

“Okay.” Simon agreed in a small voice. Clary grudgingly nodded, refusing to meet Isabelle and Alec’s eyes. 

Jace walked in the direction of the deli. Alec stood and stormed away in the opposite direction, his hands balled into fists at his sides. 

“This is all because of me.” Simon whispered, head bowed. “Because of my arm--”

“Simon. If Raphael hadn't done what he’d done, you’d be dead.” Clary reasoned. He glanced up at her through a curtain of curls and gave a weak, disheartened laugh. 

“Maybe that would’ve been for the best.” He said softly. 

Before she could begin to formulate a response, Isabelle shushed them. She sat up straighter, her eyes wide. 

“Do you hear that?” She whispered. They listened, Clary for only a moment before she heard the sound of moans and growls that was steadily getting louder. 

“It’s coming from the east door.” Alec realized, returning to the group with his face noticeably more concerned than angry. He started marching in the direction of the noise and everyone scrambled to follow, Simon leaning into Clary for support. 

They hurried past aisles and aisles until they reached the barricade, all of them stopping short when they made out the shape of Jace standing tall on top of it, a swarm of zombies behind him. The door was wide open and there were at least ten zombies filling the small semicircle that the barricade surrounded, all reaching up for Jace with rotting arms. 

“Jace!” Alec yelled, his hands fumbling at his belt. He made a frustrated noise and searched the ground around him. “My gun is gone!” 

“Mine too.” Isabelle said hollowly, her hands frozen at her empty holster. 

“Relax.” Jace said calmly from where he stood on the barricade. “I have them.” 

He raised his hand up to show the two pistols that were in his grip. In one swift movement he unloaded the clips and dropped them to the ground. Clary’s chest tightened. Was he going to kill himself? There was no way. He couldn’t--

“What the fuck are you doing?” Alec yelled, his voice cracking just slightly. He looked deathly pale. Probably what Clary looked like when Simon was hurting. “Get down, Jace, or I’ll--” 

“You’ll what?” Jace responded. He was eerily calm, making Clary even more on edge. This felt like a dream. “I have your weapons, Alec. The only one who has any weapons now is Raphael.” 

They all looked down at Raphael, who was clutching his gun. For the first time, he looked unsure. He was glued to Magnus’ side, no more than an inch away from his friend. 

“This will settle things.” Jace continued. “Raphael can walk away now, leave with Magnus and Simon and Clary. You’ll be able to get out pretty easily because the zombies are distracted by me.”

“No.” Simon whispered. 

“Or you can come up here and kill the zombies. And if you do, Alec and Isabelle have to let you stay. Deal?” 

“No!” Alec shouted. “No deal. Jace, this is ridiculous! We can’t trust him with this!” 

“It’s out of your hands now.” Jace proclaimed. He had the gall to smile at Alec, completely relaxed despite the hands that were clawing at his ankles. “Mom always said it was best for you to be out of control sometimes.” 

Alec turned to Raphael, his eyes wide. “I know I said things to you that I--I shouldn’t have. And even if you don’t trust me or Jace, please, I’m begging you--” 

“Begging a fifteen year old.” Raphael scoffed. He put a hand to Alec’s chest and pushed him aside, taking a running start at the barricade. 

“Be careful!” Magnus called after him as he climbed the barricade. Raphael looked back at them over his shoulder, smirking before he jumped into the circle with the zombies. 

“Raphael!” Simon yelled, surging forward. Clary yanked him back, not sure what he would do if he didn’t have her to anchor him. 

Jace knelt on the barricade, looking down into the pit. He looked back at the group, eyes wide. “I didn’t think he was going to go in there. I--I meant for him to stand up here and shoot. Long range, I--”

“Raphael is smart!” Magnus snapped. His eyes looked deadly, almost glowing with a rare kind of rage that Clary hadn’t imagined would ever be reflected on Magnus’ face. “He knows that gunshots draw more zombies. How could you let him jump in there, like that? He’s just a kid--” 

“I’m not a kid.” Raphael huffed, dropping his bloodied knife to the ground as he mounted the barricade again. 

Simon sagged against Clary, every muscle in his body relaxing. Jace quickly grabbed Raphael by the shirt and scrambled down, both of them being crushed by hugs from the Lightwoods and Magnus, respectively. 

“Are you hurt?” Magnus checked, running his hands over Raphael’s face and arms. He squirmed away, taking a step towards Simon and Clary. 

“I’m okay.” He promised. “There weren’t that many. Jace was exaggerating--”

Simon broke away from Clary and wrapped Raphael in a hug before he could finish. She watched Raphael gradually melt into it, his hand moving up to thread his fingers through Simon’s hair. Magnus’ jaw dropped and he looked at Clary, who shared an equally surprised expression. Simon was a hugger, but Raphael didn’t look one. 

Alec looked up from where he was clearly chastising Jace. He bit his lip, hesitating a moment before finally addressing Raphael. 

“You helped us when you didn’t have to.” He said. “You saved Jace. You can stay.” 

“So kind of you.” Raphael muttered. “I didn’t do this for Jace. I did it because I want my friends to live in a safe place with lots of food.” 

He turned away and began to walk back toward the food, his hand loosely interlocked with Simon’s. Clary moved to go with them, glancing back for just a moment to see Magnus whispering a thank you to Alec, who nodded gratefully. He looked worn out. 

Raphael sat down in his previous spot in the circle and took a long swig of milk. Simon rested his head on Clary’s shoulder and closed his eyes, a content smile on his face. 

“What are you grinning about?” Clary teased, nudging him. 

“It may just be that the painkillers are wearing off and I’m delirious.” Simon mumbled. “Or it could be because I was right about Raphael.”

“Hm?” 

“Guardian angel.” He said, and Clary could just barely see the hint of a smile on Raphael’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this chapter is six months late!!!! yikes!!!!! I'm so sorry about the wait and this is a bit of a short chapter, but I'll do my best to keep it going strong. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> come check me out on tumblr @kindasimonish
> 
> also if anyone noticed, the title is a quote from the show Z Nation on Syfy, which everyone should watch js


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